Freeing the Evenstar
by SoHo Chic
Summary: Figwit/Arwen & Arwen/Aragorn. One shot. Very sappy, melodramatic. It sucks. Flames welcomed. Arwen leaves Figwit for Estel.


AN: Why I wrote this: 1) I was in a total-force LOTR mood 2) I could not sleep until the words left my brain 3) I was wanted to write a FIGWIT fic 4) I was in a mood to write something extremely sappy, mawkish, cheesy, cliche, etc. and didn't want to do it in my other fics 5) I needed a break from my other fics 6) I needed to write a one-shot thing.  
  
Yes, that is right, you have been prewarned. In preparation from flames I KNOW will come, I will defend myself first, not later, and cover all my bases: This will contain huge segments of "oh, my love!" type of stuff. It is not really my fault--the Elves are just like that: considered poetic and romantic by some, stiffling cheesy/sappy by others (anti-LOTR peoples). This is also a one-shot thing. I have no intention of writing more chapters or a prequel. One scene, one chapter, and that is all.  
  
Who is FIGWIT? Go to figwitlives.net and there you shall find all that you need to know [he's an elf in the council scene in the movie]...and for some, FOTR may never be the same again. You may argue that the narrator of this story could be anyone, not just FIGWIT, but then the reverse is true as well--FIGWIT could be anyone, as no one mentions his name.  
  
Why I did Arwen/Figwit--I am not a Figwit fanatic or anything, not even considered a fan, really. However, I thought it would be immensely interesting to do Figwit since there is a fast world of possibilities. Why Arwen? Well, because I wanted to do a Tolkien-written character, to balance out Figwit's movie-ness. Also because aside from Arwen there is only Eowyn, who REALLY could not work in this case. And also because though I don't dislike slash, I am far from comfortable WRITING it.  
  
I encountered a bit of trouble when I tried to blend movie with book. In the movie, Arwen tells Aragorn that when they first met, she told him that she'd "bind herself to him, forsaking the immortal life of her people." Well, this more or less infers love at first sight... it's the only plausible explanation or excuse... but you do NOT just tell people, the first time you meet them, that you'll give your life for them!! Therefore, I chose to ignore this little bit of conversation. And in this story, Aragorn is Estel still. Perhaps Figwit has already found out about his heritage before Estel was told, maybe not, though it's hinted at.  
  
I know there will be those of you who will say that Arwen is OOC. *Sighs* How do you write a break-up scene with one who is so calm and wise enough to know better, and avoid such unhappy scenes? Let us simply assume that with FIGWIT being her first love, she is "inexperienced in ways of the heart," thus her confusion.  
  
Aside from the above, if you read this and must absolutely flame, you are far more than welcome to. In fact, I encourage it--a flame is better than no review at all, at least for this story! I'll know that SOMEONE read it! But if you hate reading break-up scenes (Arwen leaves Figwit for Aragorn), you probably won't like this. If you hate romance, leave now.  
  
  
Enjoy the chatterings of my restless mind (and demonic fingers).  
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"It is him."  
  
My words were simple, careful. I was sure that my tone was not accusing, that they could not betray the turmoil in my heart nor the confusion in my head.  
  
"You know," she breathed. Her graceful, arching brows drew together for a moment in surprise. Beneath the dark lashes her grey eyes held mine, wandered over my face as she searched for my sincerity.  
  
"So I am right, then?" It came almost as a plea, as I was begging for her to say no; no, I was her one and only love, her true love for all eternity. I gave her the chance to deny it, deny what I knew, that I could banish it from my thoughts forever and live in happy oblivion.  
  
"I know not what it is that I feel," she continued. "I love you, I love..." she faltered. "I have always loved you, I know this as truth, and when I met him, it was no different... I love you still... He was kind, and I spoke with him and enjoyed his company, as a friend... He is a good friend, and listens and understands...but a friend is all..."  
  
I was silent, allowing her to collect her thoughts and search her feelings. She met not my eyes, but focused on a space before her, seeing things that I saw not.  
  
"What I feel..." she said uncertainly, "I cannot fathom. It is as if... well, he is a good friend to me now, but certainly I do not love him?" She said the last as a question, though not intentionally, and I knew better than to answer. "Between us their is affection, mayhap? I have spent much this summer with him, walking and enjoying his company and his words, his voice and his seeing gaze, and I do miss that when he is gone, but I miss you all the more when you are not near!"  
  
"Do you truly?" I wondered hopefully.  
  
"Yes!" she said fiercely. Then, "At least, I believe I feel that way. I am fond of all my friends and love them dearly, him no less... yet lately--" She stopped suddenly and shook her head.  
  
"What is it?" I asked gently, and with my finger beneath her chin I drew her eyes to mine. There I saw a whirlwind of the thoughts that she was considering.  
  
"Lately it is not the same," she said at last. "Not the same as how I love Mitheriel or Lunthil, but then that is to be expected. Not as I love Elrohir or Elladan; yet though he be not my brother by blood nor name, am I not to love him as one? And even I do not love him as I love you. So then it is not love that I feel but a deep fondness."  
  
"So what do you mean by 'lately?' Before, was it different?"  
  
"I...do not know. Now when I am near him, I feel strange inside, as if... well, I don't know, it's such a strange feeling. I can't describe it. Perhaps our friendship is waning? For I did not feel it before. Now, when I see him, my heart behaves strangely. Perhaps I am afraid of him? For my breathing quickens and my blood as well, as if I were to flee from the sight of Orcs..."  
  
"Or perhaps there is another reason?" I suggested softly.   
  
"Do you think me faithless?" she whispered. I blinked. The question had caught me by surprise. Fear filled the depths of her eyes, eyes that should be lit with joy like the sky above us was lit with stars.  
  
"You are not faithless," I assured her as I gently caressed her face. Her ivory skin was soft and smooth, perfect beyond perfection, as it was the first time I beheld her. Her elven light glowed beneath my fingers, her beautiful soul.  
  
"I love you," she murmured, closing her eyes. Despair gripped my heart like an iron claw, sadness washing over me like a cold wave.  
  
"But not as you love him," I said bitterly. She flinched as if I had struck her, and I silently cursed. "I am sorry."  
  
"No, I love you," she said, and this time it was she who pleaded with me, needing me to believe her.  
  
"I am so confused," she confessed; it was strange to see she who was so wise in other ways suddenly ignorant in ways of the heart. It seemed not right that now she had lost her way; the image was foreign, as if something was amiss.  
  
It was then that I finally understood. I did not know how or why, but I saw things suddenly differently than I had before.  
  
Gently I traced the elegant sweep of her jaw and followed it down her neck, touching reverately her pendant, its silver wings shimmering, winking at me. I loved her with all my heart, with all of my being, but it was not enough. There was something lacking in me that was to be found in him, something that could make her happy, fill her life, as I had not.  
  
"You love me," I said slowly, and her eyes lit with light. "You would give yourself and your heart to me, as I would for you." A sad smile tugged at my lips. "But for him... for him you would go to the ends of the earth. For him you would cross mountains and oceans and the wastelands of Mordor itself. To me you give your heart, but to him you'd give your soul." I paused suddenly as enlightenment struck me. "To him you'd give your life, your..." I choked, "immortality."  
  
She stood stunned, her eyes wide and disbelieving.  
  
"I..."  
  
Pressing a finger to her lips, I silenced her. It was then that I knew I did not want to hear the words she would say to me.  
  
"I know not why or how he is more worthy of the Evenstar than I. What does he have that I do not? But I do know that, and I know that there is nothing I can gain to sway your heart. For he already has it. He did not need to steal it, for it was never mine. You loved me, yes, but you were never IN love with me."  
  
I paused for a moment, surprised at my own speech. I am not, was never, a speech-maker. I am patient and silent, listening and understanding, learning and knowing. Yet now the words poured from me in my need. I was to make her realize, to set her on her path again. As I truly loved her, I could not let her wander hopelessly lost, even if her true path led not to me.  
  
"I cannot prove it to you, but you know in your heart that it is true, now that I have spoken the words that they have been crying to your reluctant mind to for so long. I do not know how long I have known that you had withdrawn your soul from mine..."  
  
"Not long," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "It hasn't been long. It doesn't make any sense at all."  
  
"Even the wisest," I said, taking her hands in mine, "do not understand love. Some never find it, and some, like Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, were born loving one another."  
  
"I love you still," she said fiercely. "And always will."  
  
"I know," I said, the sad smile still on my lips. "Even when you reach Mados and I, the shores of Valinor, will I love you."  
  
"The Halls of Mandos," she repeated. Her expression was unreadable. At last she ventured a cautious smile.  
  
"When have you grown so wise?" She asked as she traced my features with her cool fingers, perhaps the last time she would ever do so.  
  
"Perhaps when I met you," I responded. Or perhaps it is because I know, because I have felt the same, because that is how I feel for you.   
  
But I didn't say that. There was no need for her to feel guilty. She was guilty of no crime other than being loved by all who knew her.  
  
"I understand, Arwen," I said quietly, letting go of her hands even as my heart pulled away from hers. "Go to him. He needs your love, even more than I. Let your light guide him, for he will need it soon."  
  
"Do you know him, then?" she asked with a start, as if just realizing this. I would have laughed if I trusted my voice.  
  
"Ai, we have been comrades long. It would be difficult indeed to reside in Imladris for long centuries and not know Lord Elrond's foster son, especially when that son needed formal training in the arts of war."  
  
"And who better to teach him than the captain of the guard?" she murmured knowingly. "So you trained him?"  
  
"Estel? Ai. And you spoke truly before when you said that he is kind and understanding. He is determined as well. Strong, and quick, too. Intelligent, no doubt, and a natural leader," I said proudly, the pride of a master whose pupil has excelled. I imagined Estel's face as he'd stood before me for so many early mornings, awaiting my instructions, so eager to learn.   
  
My breath caught, and I fought to say the words. "He is a fine Man to love, and there is no other who deserves the light of Evenstar more."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, searching my eyes again for answers. I asked myself the same. Why? Why was I pushing her toward another when my own soul cried out for her? Why was I so readily giving her to him, even going so far as to convince her to leave?  
  
"Because I love you, Arwen," I said simply, and my lips found hers in farewell. Her lips were both cool and warm. I kissed her once with passion, once with love, and then I let her go.  
  
"Namárië," I whispered to the trees when she had left, smiling and free. Now with cleared conscience she could love him, with both arms open, with her whole heart. It was a lover's farewell gift, to give back that part of her heart that once I had claimed.  
  
As I passed climbed the path to the Hall of Fire, following the melodious voices that floated down to me, I saw them at the small bridge by the fall. She glowed from a joy, illuminating her beauty. Surely, on this night, as her eyes filled with love, she rivaled Lúthien. Her hands were clasped in Estel's, and he returned her loving gaze, somewhat awestruck. Never before had I seen him so at peace, and never before had I seen my Evenstar more happy or beautiful.  
  
I knew then what my choice had meant, what my sacrifice truly was. I watched them for many moments and felt my loss and heartache slowly ebb away.  
  
Namárië. The light of the Evenstar shone freely now, uncaged by another.  
  
I had let her go.  
  
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Well, there you have it. Now before you review and flame, please read the AN at the top if you skipped it originally.  
If you really want it, maybe I'll write 1 more chapter, the same scene or the following one, from Arwen's POV. But this storyline's pretty much dead. Not unless I write a completely another story ("prequel") where Arwen and Figwit fall in love. Note that I didn't give Figwit a name. I felt that if I did, he wouldn't be our Figwit, and since I can't call him "Figwit," being so severly non-Elvish, so. *shrugs*  
  
There is every possibility that I will steal lines from this fanfic to stick into my others; in other words, reuse some of this sappy "creativity" when I need it later. 


End file.
